Mandate
by Arboreon
Summary: She is not innocent. She is not naive. She is Hermione. D/HR
1. I

Disclaimer: I own nothing. Even this computer does not belong to me.  
  
She watched as a single drop of water landed on her index finger. It was so perfect, shaped just as a teardrop should look. Teardrops like the ones you see in kindergarten coloring books, the ones that you color light blue and sometimes, if you were a really good colorer, there would be a little square of white near the top to make it look like it was glistening And as she thought this, more droplets gathered until they started sliding down her bare arm, a tiny rivulet seeping through her vest, cooling her already saturated body. But did she notice? Did she even care? Nothing mattered right now, nothing except the fact that she was alive and her best friend wasn't, and everything around her seemed so fardling cold.  
  
Beside her seated form, a blade of grass toppled over, the weight of collecting drops of precipitation finally overbalancing it. Her eyes finally fell back onto the letter in her lap, pristine with its chalky whiteness, a rudimentary charm repelling the water that attempted to fall on it. The result was that even more rain would rebound toward the girl, but of course that wasn't the thing on her mind right now. The tiny, elaborate lettering that glimmered on the paper was what held her attention, the elegant cursive that informed her that the former Headmaster Karkaroff had gone missing, that a professor Kaliope had taken his place, and that she had been selected for the highly prestigious candidate class of Transcendents.  
  
It was the one aspiration that was nearly unattainable. She had been informed of its existence when she'd been announced Head Girl over the summer. What good would it do to inform the general public of its existence when they had no hopes of reaching it? Only the groups that mattered, the highest order in all the schools, the most powerful of societies knew of it. Even Gringotts bank had not been conscious of its existence until the sorceror's stone had been placed in its keeping. And now the idiots decided it would be best to combine the Transcendents of the three schools, and what with a new Headmaster, what school could be better than Durmstrang? Right. So she was stuck. Her seventh and final year at Hogwarts, supposibly the highlight of one's school career and finally crowned Head Girl, and she was ordered to throw herself into the jaws of death itself in a school that hated muggle-borns on the off-chance that the powers-that-be might find her fit to carry the title of Transcendent, a title she wouldn't be able to show 97% of the wizarding population, and absolutely forbidden to explain to muggles at all. No self-respecting person would do that to herself.  
  
And yet, she wasn't totally repulsed by the idea, though she was given no choice in the matter. Life without Ron simply hurt. It hurt to get up in the morning knowing she wouldn't see a redhead stumbling down the stairs in an effort not to be late to class, it hurt to look into the common room fire because it matched the color of his hair. Yes, she had Harry, but he wasn't the same. He was charming, enigmatic, proud, everything Boy Wonder should be. But he was no longer a good best friend. And that was simply because of the rift between them. As if losing Ronald Weasley wasn't already enough, that.conflict had to happen. It prevented them from being as close-knit as they used to be.  
  
"It is possible to pass up the offer, you know." It was Headmaster Dumbledore, his soft voice reverberating richly as he stood under the eaves watching her. The day before everyone else would get back from winter vacation.  
  
Dark, turbulent umber eyes gazed blankly up at him, as if she didn't comprehend his question. Yes, they had given her that option in the letter, but of course no one had turned down the offer before, and though in words she was given the choice, the magic that permeated through her body every time she touched the letter warned her there really was no second option. Finally, "Do you think I should go?"  
  
A wrinkled hand reached up to twirl his snow-white beard. "That's entirely your decision." But even the Headmaster could not hide the sense of urgency, the unwritten demand that she accept the offer.  
  
Water was pooling around her now, and she heaved a deep sigh, ignoring the stinging of her eyes that indicated true teardrops would soon fall. Hermione's shoulders lifted slowly into a half-shrug, not even excited enough to look up when she spoke. "So when do I leave?" 


	2. II

"No one will know you are a candidate for the Transcendents. They will think you are just a transfer student."  
  
Hermione fluttered her hand dismissively, still wet from her time spent outside. "Yes, I gleaned as much."  
  
"So we must create a back-story on the off-chance someone will ask you where you were from."  
  
The Head Girl simply stared at him. Did he think she was daft or something? Of course she knew that. "How 'bout I say I'm an inbred drone from Slytherin House at Hogwarts Castle? You know, hounding after anything male, three-inch heels. I think most people call them purebloods around here, but they're basically synonymous."  
  
She knew she wasn't being nice, knew that he didn't deserve this kind of treatment from her. But she was trapped in all of this, coerced into accepting something she could not explain the true meaning of to her peers, and he was the only outlet for her anger.  
  
To her utter surprise, the Headmaster smiled. "Why, that's a wonderful idea. Of course Granger will no longer be your last name. Cherle will suit you fine though. Hermione Cherle it is."  
  
At once her aloof façade disappeared. She wasn't happy about this, yes, but what was he thinking? Shoulders tensed, she sprang out of her chair, leaning urgently over the desk. "But Headmaster Dumbledore! My grades! You can't possibly expect me to throw away my perfect marks for this!"  
  
Dumbledore looked pointedly at her. "Miss Granger, I don't think you understand how important this is. If you are for one instant suspected to be hiding something, every student will be running searches on you. They are not a friendly bunch at Durmstrang, at least not in its best definition. A, if you'll pardon the term, know-it-all from Hogwarts will be scrutinized much more closely than a simpler girl."  
  
Hermione clenched her hand into a fist, the trimmed nails nearly gouging her palm. But she let out the pent up sigh she'd been holding back, when she could find no fault in that argument. "But must I act stupid?"  
  
"Not stupid. Just do not put all your cards on the table at once. Don't' study for a test or two. It'll be fun." He smiled reassuring at her, blue eyes holding a sympathetic sparkle as he continued. "Now, it's obvious that if you go in there mid-year, all their attention will focus on you. But if you remember, Hogwarts started organizing a student-exchange program for any interested. We have selected eight others from their applications we think would make a good group. They have already been notified and are on their way to Durmstrang as we speak."  
  
Hermione nodded. "Okay, nine of us total. So who are the other eight?"  
  
Dumbledore smiled. "We want to keep it a surprise. It's not important."  
  
The girl shrugged indifferently. "Suits me well enough. Not like I care who's going."  
  
"Well, we're all squared away then. You're scheduled to leave in exactly seven hours."  
  
The bewildered, waspish glare she shot him could have withered a redwood tree. She opened her mouth, then shut it abruptly, the muscle in her cheek jumping slightly. Through gritted teeth, she hissed, "Is there anything else you would like to tell me?"  
  
Dumbledore shook his head. "Nothing you need to know as of this moment."  
  
The girl moved quickly to the door. Just as she had her hand on the knob, he called out. "Oh, and Hermione? You must remove that glamour you have on." 


	3. III

So close, but she was not, in fact, in the clear. Lifting her head, she glared at her reflection once more. Light brown eyes regarded her, framed by a frizzy head of hair. A slightly rotund face completed the look of bookish Granger, the face she'd come to know and love. But now he was telling her to give that up too.  
  
With a soft sigh, Hermione plopped unceremoniously into a chair. Ever since the summer of third year she'd tried to hide it. Careful analyses and hours spent perusing case studies had told her that was the best option. And she'd seen for herself, that one time in her fourth year when she'd foolishly decided to let loose for once. The Yule Ball, and no one could stop gawping at her.  
  
Since then she'd vowed never to make that mistake again. It'd been a close one, at that. Sleakeazy potion? Like she'd -ever- put that goop into her precious hair. Three years spent in this façade and now she'd have to take it off for that idiotic candidacy bull they were giving her. Being her real self would suck. With a deep exhalation, she pointed the tip of her wand at her forehead. "Finite incantatem glamour!"  
  
All at once the room was engulfed in a hazy bronze light. Blinding sparkles swirled about, leaving a cloying lavender smell. Coughing lightly, Hermione waved a hand in front of her, as if that half-hearted gesture would actually rid her senses of the scent and bright lighting. But coincidentally the lights subsided, the scent faded, and she was once again left in the Gryffindor tower dormitories. The clock pinned onto the wall squealed happily, an enchanted piglet racing about its face to the melody of the song "Old McFarmer". One hour left before she needed to leave; she really had no more time to waste.  
  
But waste it she did. Her eyes roamed the far side of the room, studying that quaint little crack in the wall above one of the canopied beds as if it were the most important thing in the world. ~I wonder how it got there. Oh, yes, the time Seamus dumped Lavender~ With a faint giggle, she didn't realize her eyes had left the crack and traveled to the object she was trying to avoid all along, unbidden in its effort. At once her giggling ceased, and she lightly fingered the back of the mirror, delicately-wrought lilies adorning the handle. This is what it really came down to. Squeezing both eyes shut, her left hand deftly twisted the handle until she knew the mirror's face was now turned towards her. ~Okay, now's the time you're supposed to open your eyes~ A voice in her mind told her.  
  
~Well, I know that. I'm not an idiot or anything~  
  
~You do realize you still haven't opened your eyes?~  
  
Hermione snorted. ~You know, you're starting to irritate me.~  
  
The voice echoed her snort. ~And you know I'm only a part of you, I'd say the wiser half of you. Which techinically means that you're irritated with yourself?~  
  
Hermione flushed slightly. ~Okay, here goes.~  
  
One eye slowly, ever so slowly cracked open, not daring to look. She angled her head so that it was fully facing the mirror and.  
  
~Oh boy.~ Both Hermione voices echoed in unison. 


	4. IV

It was happening again. Shards, could the woman stop tapping for /one/ moment? A scowl spread across his face, he turned an appropriate cool glare at the girl opposite him. At once she stopped, blushing as she looked down.  
  
"I-I'm sorry. You see, I tend to get frazzled in new situations. You could say I'm a bit too tense, and Madame Pince has always told me that it is unhealthy but nevertheless."  
  
~What an utterly disgusting girl they've decided on. Have they no sense of decency? Those Hufflepuffs, all the same blithering idiots with unicellular brains.~ He continued to stare at her until she finally fell silent of her own accord, continued to lean casually against the far wall as he silently regarded each of the students in the room. At least they'd retained enough common sense not to select any of those infuriating Gryffindors.but where was the last of their number? He was certain the acceptance letter had said nine students going abroad to Durmstrang for the next Semester. From the corridor, a terrible ripping sound reverberated into their cozy sitting room, followed by a dismayed squeal that had all eight of them staring curiously at the open door. Within moments, a figure laden with suitcases traipsed in, setting all five bags down with a little huff.  
  
"I'm sorry I'm late. Mother forgot to pack my nail set!" She brushed her nails against her shirt, clapping her hands before finally allowing herself to look up. "Has the Headmaster-" Her amber eyes widened, a hand discreetly resting on her bags to keep herself from falling unceremoniously onto her rear in surprise.  
  
~Well, maybe they didn't have such awful taste after all~ He smirked as his eyes swept casually over the newcomer. Sleek, straight cinnamon-colored hair highlighted with an amazingly white-gold blonde. And man, she was all delicious curves. Why, he'd bet-  
  
From the adjoining room directly across from the corridor where the girl had entered, a throat was cleared and he tore his gaze away from what he'd decided would be his brand new toy to eye the gaunt, black-mustached man, one Headmaster Kaliope of Durmstrang School of Magic.  
  
"I am sorry to have kept you all waiting. I see," his gaze crossed everyone of them, "that you have all nine of you arrived already. Now we may proceed to lay out the rules." A tome-sized volume appeared on the table in the middle of the room, flipping of its own volition to page 756. "Our policy on transfer students is amazingly flexible. You will be rooming with students of your own year only. The dormitories are broken into dormitory buildings by years and then separated by floors in gender. The floors of the sixth and seventh years are intermixed gender-wise and we expect our students not to abuse this aspect of the school." He glanced pointedly at the group before flicking his wand so that the book opened to a diagram. "For example, Building 762 houses all seventh years. You will receive a password from your resident assistants and they will give you a list of names to contact for any other help you might need as well as your new class schedule. Supper served promptly at seven, and please enjoy your stay at Durmstrang."  
  
With a faint smile, the man swept out of the room once more and disappeared behind the oak doors of the annex. There was a moment's silence before the nervous Hufflepuff dropped out of her chair in a faint. 


	5. V

"Bite me."  
  
"I'd love to."  
  
Sliding awkwardly back with a high-heeled foot, Hermione mentally smacked herself, eyes snapping with fire. ~ You /never/ say that to a vampire, you doofus ~ The wraith was moving towards her again, all pale skin and red malevolent eyes. Fingers tightening painfully around her wand, she levelled it at the vampire's chest, hand shaking just slightly.  
  
He bared his fangs at her in a vampiric grin, bright beads of blood gleaming in the lambent moonlight as he drew up less than a foot away from her, leaning in towards her neck and ear. A hand came up to stroke that soft cinnamon hair as he turned his eyes on her. "Silly girl, magic cannot kill me." Heavy breathing would've been frightening, but the lack of any breath at all was downright terrifying, and despite her herself the shudder racked Hermione's body. Her teeth clenched as she looked to the side. Anything to avoid those eyes. Those red gleaming eyes.  
  
She could feel the laughter in his chest now as he pressed up against her, could sense his triumphant amusement just as she could feel that frigid hand running along her neck. "It's a shame. Such a beauty. But you know, this wizarding magic, it's child's play. Only garlic and a stak-" Suddenly he stumbled back, those bloodshot orbs staring at her in wild-eyed surprise. That pallid white hand that had been on her neck just moments before now reached up to rest where his heart would have been, coming into contact instead with the handle of an 11-inch cherry wood wand. Pouty, bloodless lips pulled together to form a word, a promise of death perhaps, but he exploded into dust before he could get it out, and all that was left was a pile of soot.  
  
Her breath came in ragged gasps, dropping to her knees to grab a handful of grass as she closed her eyes in relief. It was a soothing gesture, but not as soothing as seeing that pile of dust. She never thought she'd be so happy to see soot before.  
  
"I didn't take you for a nature worshipper."  
  
Instantly her head jerked upward, slowly rotating as she refocused her vision to regard the figure leaning against a tree trunk, silhouetted in moonlight. Her eyes narrowed of their own accord, and she fought it down desperately. She must not let him suspect.  
  
"Oh, I simply.love the smell of grass at midnight. Especially after a night of strenuous exercise." Little did he know how strenuous her exercise was.  
  
An eyebrow lifted at her. "Oh? Well, I'm quit good at nocturnal exercise myself. Perhaps we can.practice together sometime."  
  
Soft cracking noises rustled the silence, her clawing ripping the blades of grass from the ground as she fights a snort of disgust down. "Ah.hahaha. No thank you, sir. I'm quite content as I am."  
  
A soft chuckle, nasally and harsh to her ears; that snooty quality. If she had any doubts before, she could no longer deny that it was that disgusting Draco Malfoy.  
  
"You may call me Draco for now, though most women revert to God once I've.taught them a few tricks." She could feel those eyes on her, undressing her of her three layers of clothing.  
  
Breath curled like smoke in front of her mouth as she struggled to her feet, a flash of a playful smile at the man as she sidled past him. "Well, Draco. Perhaps some other time." It dropped as soon as he was out of sight, a scowl instantly on her face. "Bloody idiot, stupid little ferret-face." Her muttering was stopped as she felt something tickle her ear, and a hand came up to unfold the little scrap of paper that had fallen on her shoulder.  
  
Well done. You will receive your next testing in a sevenday. Enjoy yourself.  
  
"And bloody Transcendents." Her eyes swept over the seven already deep in slumber in the visitors' chambers. They would be moving to the dormitories tomorrow while classes went on, and then proceed in acquainting themselves with the others of their year. What a circus this all was. And she was the red-nosed clown. 


End file.
